


I'm calm, I'm sure of it.

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Come Marking, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Facials, Finger Sucking, Hair-pulling, Kinktober, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Soft!Viren was my jam, not so much comfort because i'm boring, the dads are okay guys, they bang it out, whats the tag for fingers in the mouth?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 05:10:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16152269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: The floor was cold underneath him, and hard through the thick fabric over his knees. The fire of resentment did little to stop the way the stone's frigid cold seemed to seep into the scars along his bad leg in a matter of moments, making it ache, then throb. At least the pain was warm, in a way Harrow’s eyes were not.tdlr; that blowjob we all were pretty sure was about to go down.





	I'm calm, I'm sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> look, I got eyes. I've also got these sinful, sinful little raccoon hands.  
> eat your heart out all you virenfuckers.  
> *makes 'i see u' finger eyes gesture at thedragonprinceofficial* this one's for you, babe.

I'm calm, I'm sure of it.

* * *

* * *

 

The floor was cold underneath him, and hard through the thick fabric over his knees. The fire of resentment did little to stop the way the stone's frigid cold seemed to seep into the scars along his bad leg in a matter of moments, making it ache, then throb. At least the pain was warm, in a way Harrow’s eyes were not.

“You are a servant of the kingdom of Katolis. _You are a servant.”_ Harrow’s voice left no room for argument, for even response.

Viren swallowed his sharp reply, ducking his head to hide the resentment he knew burned in his eyes. His king was right, of course; he had grown arrogant, self assured of his place. At court, at Harrow’s side. He had allowed a false sense of familiarity, had fostered it and grown comfortable within it’s falsely warm bubble, like a hypothermic laying in a snowbank and thinking themselves warm. But he had thought Harrow had too; when Queen Sarai had died, Harrow had been first of them to drop the formalities, to seek comfort of a shoulder to cry on.

 Viren had known what it felt like, had been raising his own children by himself. He had given without hesitation, and never stopped since that day. He never would, not until Harrow’s last breath. And if it came down to it, he would be relentless in his hunt for vengeance.

Eyes fixed on the dark flagstone, Viren was well aware he couldn’t speak any of this now. He’d lost his chance to speak soft words from the heart when he’d made such a grievous error as to bring the soulfang with him when he returned to offer his life in return for Harrow’s. There were no more words to speak now.

Too caught up in his own regret, the soft touch of Harrow’s hand threading through his hair is a surprise. His head jerked up, out of Harrow’s touch, and Viren looked at him in surprise. If he was being honest with himself, it wasn’t really a shock to see a closed off look of consideration on Harrow’s face, or the kindling of heat in his friend’s eyes.

Viren shivered, running his tongue across suddenly dry lips, and his breath caught as Harrow’s dark gaze followed the gesture. The fingers in his hair tightened slightly. They carded though his hair, stroking strands mused by his own frustrated fingers back into place, and if it weren’t for the strange tension Viren might have relaxed into the touch.

“I can’t recall the last time you were on your knees before me,” Harrow said softly, sliding his fingers down along the mage’s jaw. The sword callouses on his palms scratched through Viren’s beard as he tilted Viren’s face up gently. “I never expected it of you. You’re too proud.”

 Harrow scoffed as if his own words amused him, and ran his thumb over Viren’s bottom lip, watching raptly as the mage parted his lips at the pressure. Distractedly, he pressed down harder so Viren’s lip paled under his thumb, then lifted the pressure to watch it flush pink with new, hot blood.

Viren felt a hot wave rush across his skin, heat rising like a flame of confused embarrassment that darkening his face in a flush. It didn’t stop there, instead racing down his spine and settling uncomfortably between his legs. His aching knee was a distant sensation, washed away in the tide of warmth Harrow’s touch was filling his blood with.

He struggled to remain impassive under his hand, to stay still and silent. This was not a side of Harrow he’d seen before; even if he could find his voice, Viren had no idea what he’d say.

“I didn’t expect you to actually kneel, you know,” said Harrow, as he pushed his thumb past Viren’s lips, rubbing the pad along his teeth. Harrow pushed slowly in and out of his mouth, a hazy idea forming. His cock twitched within his pants, interested in the hot, wet feel of Viren’s mouth.

Viren sucked in a hard breath, saliva gathering as his king pushed farther into his mouth, holding his tongue down. Viren had to swallow it back, unable to avoid sucking on the digit. His fists clenched against his own dark robes, terribly off balance but unwilling to reach out. Viren stared wide eyed at up at Harrow, feeling like a line had been crossed that couldn’t be backed down from. Harrow met his gaze calmly, expression just as closed off as before.

But for his eyes. His eyes were scorching and they said everything his face did not. Viren shivered at the look, leaning in despite himself. He tried to keep his hands to himself, but he _needed_ to anchor himself; his bad knee shivered with the strain of holding his position for even such a short time, threatened to give out and drop him sideways with every moment that passed.

Harrow’s gaze slowly slid down his body, fixing on his shaking leg. He grunted softly,  looking back to his flushed face. Viren knelt stiffly at his feet, head held back by Harrow’s firm grip, mouth open and lips puffy and shiny with his own spit, unable to speak with the King holding his tongue down. He was panting against Harrow’s hand, leaning into his touch. The sight was certainly pleasing. His stiffening cock ached at the sight.

Harrow shifted his weight, easing the pressure of his growing hardness. Viren swayed in his grip, and reluctantly he released his mouth with one last swipe of his thumb across the mage’s parted lips. Viren let out a shaky breathe, but said nothing.

“I had forgotten about your injury. It has indeed been a long time since you’ve knelt to me,” Harrow mused, as he tugged the mage forward by his collar. Viren fell against him, hands clutching his armoured thigh, the rush of his breath hot against Harrow’s clothed hip. He could feel the way his mage was shaking, either from fear or the physical strain of being on his knees, he couldn’t be sure; but Viren had yet to offer a single protest at his treatment, and they both knew that if he _truly_ wanted this to stop he could put an end to it in an instance.

Perhaps his mage was more subservient then he had thought, to meld so willingly to this dark urge of Harrow’s.

He smoothed his hand though Viren’s sleek cut hair, admiring the silver threading through the rich brown. He felt Viren shiver against him, face turned into his leg, mouth still open, panting. Harrow made up his mind.

“If this is to be my last day as king, then you will _serve_ me. Wholly and completely,” said Harrow, turning Viren’s face back up so he was speaking to him rather then the top of his head. The mage was as hot as a furnace, still flushed red. His pink tongue darted out to wet his pink lips, and Harrow nearly lost his train of thought.

Viren’s light eyes were narrowed, and Harrow could see that he wouldn’t need to spell it out for him. He looked good like this, he decided, flushed and on his knees. Still, he would look better with his silver-tongued mouth stuffed full with Harrow’s cock.

Haltingly, Viren pulled himself up, settling back onto his knees. He turned his face away from Harrow as he raised his hands to the lances of his pants, but from his position Harrow could see the colour rise along the back of Viren’s neck. _Shame_? Perhaps he hadn’t thought Harrow would go through with it.

Harrow smoothed his hand along the back of that neck, enjoying the feeling of Viren’s smooth skin under his palm. The mage shivered under his hand, and made a soft, breathy noise, fingers clenching on his laces. Harrow rubbed along his neck, Viren’s hands shaking in response as they tugged his hard cock free of his leathers.  The simple pressure of the mage’s hands on his stiff cock was enough to make Harrow bite back a satisfied noise; he tightened his fingers on the back of Viren’s head, pushing just enough to make his point.

The mage glanced up at him, the sighed. It was barely audible, but the fight visibly drained out of him. clenching his hands in Harrow’s tunic, Viren leaned in and reluctantly took the head of his cock into his mouth.

Harrow hissed out a harsh breath, clenching his hand in Viren’s hair, and watched in rapt attention as his cock disappeared into those swollen, split slick lips. The mage made a small, pained noise of protest that sent sparks up his cock, and Harrow thrust shallowly into his hot mouth, ignoring the way Viren struggled to accommodate him, jaw opening wide, tears gathering in his eyes. Harrow tightened his fist, pulling at Viren’s hair, and thrust harder, an alien feeling of satisfaction filling him as the mage struggled against his grip, hands tightening on his tunic, balking for the first time.

Harrow pulled back enough to allow Viren a moment to adjust, then resumed his harsh thrusts, deeper into his mouth then before. The mage gaged around him, tears streaking his cheeks as he stared pleadingly up at Harrow, small noises accompanying every movement; wet, slick noises. Grunts from him, unwilling mewls from Viren.  His mouth was so red now, flushed and perfect around Harrow, stretched wide and slick.

Harrow kept the harsh pace, holding Viren by the side of his face and a fistful of hair, fucking his mouth hard; using him without mercy. Viren’s token protests were just that; token. The mage’s hips made little aborted thrusts against Harrow’s legs, Viren’s cock as hard as Harrow’s. he just _took it_ , opened his mouth as far as he could and let Harrow bury himself until Viren’s face was pressed into the thatch of hair at the base of his cock.

Over and over. Harrow’s hand was growing slick with Viren’s saliva, overflowing from his stretched lips. Viren’s tongue was flat against the bottom of his cock, his throat fluttering every time he pressed his dick into it. He clenched his hand harder in his hair, rewarded with a gasp that was followed by a choke, yet Viren pushed himself closer, seeking Harrow’s touch. His eye’s were glassy, unfocused as he stared up at Harrow.

His finish was coming quickly, spurred on by Viren’s submission. Harrow held Viren firm, mercilessly fucking his mouth in several harsh thrusts, and came with a soft grunt. The mage was unprepared, eyes widening, but he swallowed as best he could, eyes watering once more.

Harrow pulled Viren off his cock, and left a last streak of white across the mage’s lips. Viren hung limply from his grip, mouth open, face flushed. They were both panting. Harrow gave himself a moment to take in the image before him; Viren, thoroughly debauched, hair mused by his own hands, lips swollen and red from his cock. His seed, dripping from his face. He released his rib on Viren’s hair, letting him sag, and rubbed the white streak into his lips. Viren blinked up at him, and took his thumb into his mouth, sucking off his seed.

Wordlessly, he hauled Viren to his feet by the front of his robes. The mage went without complaint, stumbling upright and sagging into Harrow’s arms when he crushed him close. Viren clutched at his armoured shoulders, panting, trying to keep from humping Harrow’s leg like a dog, and was taken by surprise when Harrow kissed him, not wasting time on soft.

Viren bucked against him, turning his head away, “S-sire, no—” he rasped, flushed painfully red. His mouth was still coated with Harrow’s seed, it was too filthy for the king to kiss him like _that_.

Harrow paused in surprise, then put his thigh between Viren’s, grinding it up against his clothed cock. The mage shook in his grip, bad leg giving out and leaving him pressed tight to Harrow. The king claimed his mouth, ignoring the protest, and planted a firm hand on the small of Viren’s back, forcing the mage to grind himself along his metal clad leg.

Viren jerked his face away, and ducked it against Harrow’s chest this time.

“S-stop this,” he hissed, hot and flushed, and delicious in Harrow’s arms.

“Is that how you speak to your king?” he asked, unsticking Viren from his chest enough to get a hand between them, and over his dick.

It was over almost immediately. Viren stiffened in his arms, hips jumping at Harrow’s firm touch, and he came with a harsh yell that he muffled against Harrow’s doublet.  Despite that, his entire body remained tense, shivering.  He lifted the hand from the now-damp front of Viren’s pants, to tilt his face up. Up close his mouth looked even better, expression tired and wary.  Harrow stroked a thumb under Viren’s eye, rubbing away a tear track.

“You should never kneel again,” he said softly. Viren blinked at him slowly, then leaned in carefully and pressed his lips to Harrows.

“My last kneel.” He promised.


End file.
